Rosalie's Revenge
by Bforqueen
Summary: One week, seven days, seven men... Newborn vampire Rosalie only has one thing on her mind: revenge... -based on the movie 'I spit on your grave'- Canon.Very dark. Enter at your own risk.
1. Kirk

**A/N: This is very different from anything I've ever done. First, it doesn't deal with an original or secondary character. Second, it's dark. Realllll dark. Think this chapter is bad? This is just the beginning. Be warned.**

**Wonder where I got the inspiration for this? Go and watch 'I spit on your grave'. It's honestly one of the best movies I've ever seen.**

**Special thanks to my beta Jkane180 and my partner in crime Wordslinger**

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><p>I checked the mirror one last time, making sure everything was perfect. Of course it was; not a single strand of my golden hair was out of place. In life, I had been beautiful, but in death, I was perfection. If it wasn't for my bright red eyes, I could've been an angel. And that was exactly the look I had tried to accomplish and achieved successfully; an avenging angel.<p>

Mere weeks ago I thought I was dying. I didn't mind; at that point, I welcomed it more than anything. Yet here I was, walking and talking, but no more alive than the rest of the inanimate objects in this room. I had no pulse, no need to breathe. The only thing that kept me going was the unquenchable thirst for revenge.

One week, seven days, seven men. My mission was clear: to hurt them as much as they'd hurt me and then some. They would feel what they'd done to me. They would not escape me; it was impossible now. I'd hunt them down, one by one, saving the best for last. I would be the last thing they'd see. The thing that would be etched in their minds forever before they found the release that was denied to me: death. I almost envied them for it.

"Are you sure about this?"

I didn't need to turn to know that it was Edward who'd spoken. Intrusion of the mind was his gift. Not even my thoughts were my own anymore. It was almost as much of a violation as what those seven monsters had done to me. Behind me, Edward quickly vanished from my room. The way I saw his talent made him uneasy. I knew it wasn't something he could control, but I also couldn't help the way it made me feel. Either way, I didn't need him around for this. He didn't understand; how could he? How could he know what it felt like when people took what was yours without asking for permission? How could he know what it felt like to no longer belong to yourself? How could he know what it was like to look into the mirror and no longer see yourself looking back?

There was nothing left of what had been there before. I'd lost the ability to smile. I'd lost the beauty I once possessed. It didn't matter that I was perfection on the outside; the inside was hollow. There was nothing behind my eyes. It was time to fill the void, to recreate something from the ashes. It was time for vengeance.

_Day 1: Kirk. _

_Young. Rosy cheeks. Sweat on his brow as he watches his friends. His eyes flitting from side to side, fear and excitement alternating in his looks. His pink tongue protruding as he licks his lips while taking in my uncovered body. _

Kirk Trenchwood. I hadn't known his name at the time, but I had learned it since. He was only seventeen, the youngest of Royce's friends. I'd seen him around on some occasions, but he was too young for me to really take notice. I didn't even know or understand why Royce allowed him to tag along. I supposed he was something of an errand boy-someone to do their dirty work for them.

He hadn't actively participated in my demise. He stood on the sideline, watching eagerly as the rest of them had their way with me. There was no question in my mind though, had he been only a few years older, he would've been as keen as the rest of them. I'd watched him from the shadows these last few weeks, had seen him trying to approach women. Every time, they turned him down.

Oddly enough, he was always alone. I never saw him with Royce's gang anymore. I briefly wondered why but decided easily that I didn't care. Whatever the reason, it didn't matter to me. It would only make it easier for now.

I stood on the branch of a large tree, peering into his window. Kirk was staggering around his room, drunk from the few beers he'd consumed. I watched as he struggled to undress, falling over as his foot got caught in his pants. The corners of my mouth twitched upwards, trying to get me to smile at the sight. But I couldn't, not yet. Kirk eventually collapsed on his bed, one leg still caught in his pants and his shirt unbuttoned, hanging haphazardly off one shoulder. His mouth was open, drool oozing out as he snored loudly, no doubt dreaming of better nights.

For about an hour, I stood there, watching his chest rise and fall and listening to his moans and grunts as he slept a restless sleep. Then I moved stealthily, jumping from the branch onto the large ledge. My fingers dug into the window frame, the wood splintering in my grasp. The window was ajar, and I carefully opened it further, making sure I made no noise in the process.

With one lithe movement, I found myself standing inside Kirk's room. It smelled of sweat and stale beer. He was on his back now, his arms wide on either side of him. I never took my eyes from his body as I moved around the bed, careful not to make any noise. When I came to his head, I knelt, bringing my face level with his. His breath smelled worse than anything I'd ever smelled before, making me gag a little, but I quickly regained my focus. I didn't even need to try and control my bloodlust; there was nothing appealing about this boy at all.

"Kirk."

My voice came out a whisper, hardly audible, even to me. He continued to snore, undisturbed and unaware that he was so close to death. A giggle escaped my lips and reverberated around the room. He grunted at the noise and rolled over, bringing his nose only inches from mine.

"Ki-hirk," I teased in a sing-song voice, sounding sweet as bells.

His breathing stopped, and his heartbeat sped noticeably; he was awake. His eyelids trembled as he slowly opened them. It took him a few seconds for his brain to catch up with what he was seeing, but I knew the moment it did because the trembling increased.

"You," he whispered, never moving and never taking his eyes off me.

"Yes, Kirk," I whispered back, letting my sweet breath wash over him.

He swallowed loudly. I could see his Adams apple bob up and down in his throat. For some strange reason, it bothered me. A human gesture that had gone unnoticed while I was alive now had so much more meaning since my death. Without even realizing, I wrapped my hand around his throat and pinned him to the bed. His eyes widened in shock and fear as he tried to pry my hands from him. I watched curiously as he kicked and screamed, the paleness of his complexion quickly turning a bluish grey.

That would be too easy though.

I released him, leaving him gasping for air with his hands around his throat, trying to soothe the pain that the pressure of my grip had caused. I could already see the purple marks that would turn into bruises. He quickly scrambled up the bed, pressing his back against the wall as if wishing to vanish into it.

"This is im…impossible," he stuttered, "You we…were d-dead."

"Oh, I am," I replied, looking him straight in the eyes. "Just not the kind of dead you'd expect."

I circled the bed like a predator circling her prey.

"You like to watch, don't you, Kirk? You watched as they violated my body, and you enjoyed it, didn't you?"

"N-no, Ma'am. I'm so s-sorry," he replied, his voice so soft that normal human ears would never have been able to hear it.

"Don't lie to me, Kirk. You watched, and you liked what you saw. You wished it was you doing those things to me, but you knew Royce would never let your inexperienced little dick near me. Isn't that the truth, Kirk?"

He swallowed again, his pulse straining in his throat. I could almost see the blood flowing through his main artery. It didn't awake my thirst; it just made me want to squeeze the life out of him.

"Answer me, Kirk. You wanted me, didn't you? You wanted to touch me; admit it. I won't hold it against you."

I used my sweetest voice, trying to placate him. Slowly, I moved closer to the bed. Kirk watched me, his eyes widening, and tears spilling over. Still, he never answered me.

"Don't be scared, Kirk," I whispered seductively as I crawled up the bed towards his trembling body. "It'll be quick, I promise. I'll make it quick."

He pushed himself against the wall even further, kicking the sheets from the bed as he moved. I edged closer and closer until I was over him.

"I can smell your fear, Kirk. It's very unattractive," I taunted, running my nose along his jaw line. He wheezed and moaned. His body was trembling so violently that I half expected him to go into a seizure.

"I-I'm s-s-sorry," he stuttered in a last chance to redeem himself. It didn't work; instead, the corners of my mouth twitched again, trying to form the smile they'd taken from me.

"So am I, Kirk. I'm sorry that this is the closest you'll ever get to a woman. Enjoy it while you can."

"P-please, d-don't hurt me," he begged, causing me to loathe him even more.

"Hurt you? No, Kirk. I never intended to hurt you."

He pushed out a large gust of air mixed with disgusting saliva. I recoiled slightly as I felt it hit my dress.

"Th-thank you, Ma'am," he exclaimed, misunderstanding my words.

"Don't thank me, Kirk. I merely meant I'm not going to make you suffer."

His eyes widened as I grabbed his throat again and lifted his face to mine.

"Such pretty blue eyes you have," I crooned, running two fingers down his eyelids. "Too bad they've seen such filthy things."

I applied the tiniest amount of pressure and could feel my fingers sink into the soft flesh. Kirk's breathing sped up, and his heart nearly beat out of his chest. I pressed harder and watched as my fingers disappeared into his eye sockets. The squishy texture of his eyeballs nearly freaked me out, but I stayed focused. Curling my fingers behind his eyes, I quickly pulled back my hand and watched in wonder as they rolled over the sheets and onto the ground. I never even took in Kirk's terrified screams and never felt the way he wriggled in my grasp in an attempt to free himself.

"You bitch, let me go!"

At these words, I turned my focus back to the thrashing body in my grasp. Where his eyes had once been there were now only black holes, gaping back at me, looking as hollow as I felt. Remembering my promise to not make him suffer, I quickly snapped his neck and lay him down on the bed before stepping back and admiring my work. I stared for a little while, taking in his lifeless form. His mouth was open, and his muscles were relaxed. If it wasn't for the blood that had poured from his eye sockets, staining his cheeks, he could've been sleeping. He looked peaceful. I clenched my fist at the sudden onslaught of envy I felt and had to do my best to bring my focus back to what I was here to do.

Reaching up, I pulled a Bleeding Heart rose from my hair. I grabbed the petals and twisted once, releasing them from the stem. Then I walked towards Kirk's body and carefully sprinkled the petals on and around his body. This was my silent message to the man that had once claimed to love me. I wanted him to know I was coming for him.

o-O-o

"Are you okay?"

Edward's voice was tentative, as if he was afraid of what I would do if he came too close.

"I will be," I replied as I zipped up the garment bag that held my wedding dress. There were only a few bloodstains on it-not too bad for my first murder.

"So you're really going through with this?" he asked, hardly audible, his tone full of amazement.

I turned to face him, my fists clenched and my jaw set as I replied with more certainty than ever.

"One down…six to go."


	2. Percy

**Special thanks again to my beta Jkane180 and to Wordslinger. You both know why. Thanks to all who read and reviewed. I'll be replying to those now. **

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><p>I could easily hear them downstairs, even though they were whispering. Of course, I was once again the topic of conversation, as I had been so many times over the last few weeks.<p>

"Did you see the paper this morning, Carlisle?"

Esme sounded worried, her voice trembling slightly as she continued.

"That Trenchwood boy was found dead, his eyes ripped out. He was one of her attackers; do you remember? Carlisle, his body was covered in rose petals."

Carlisle sighed deeply.

"I know, sweetheart."

"Do you think she did it?" I heard Esme ask.

It was quiet for a few seconds before Carlisle responded.

"Yes, I do. She wasn't here last night. I think Edward knows something, but he doesn't want to tell me. In fact, he's been avoiding me for the last few days. I think we know why now."

"Shouldn't we stop her?" Esme sounded anxious, and for a moment, I tensed. They wouldn't be able to stop me if they tried, but if that was what they wanted, I would fight them with all I had.

"I don't think we can, Esme. She seems intent on doing this. You didn't see the state she was in when I found her. The things they did to her…" His voice grew even softer as he trailed off. I flinched as I was once again reminded of what had happened to me that night.

"So we sit back and do nothing as she murders them one by one," Esme stated, sounding slightly desperate.

"I think we have no choice," Carlisle responded, much to my satisfaction.

They really didn't have a choice. Not even I had a choice in this; it had to be done. For my own sanity.

_Day 2: Percy _

_Dark eyes, a crooked grin. His hands on my shoulders as he tries to keep me pinned to the floor. Words of encouragement for the men around him as they rape me one by one. The back of his hand on my face, stinging my cheek when I try to break free from his grip. The taste of blood in my mouth as he strikes time and time again. Elation in his eyes as I beg him to stop. _

Percy Weston was one of the newer additions to the New York social scene. Having moved here from Texas, he was over the moon to be accepted into Royce's inner circle. He emulated Royce in everything that he did in an attempt to become his best friend. I was never even sure that Royce liked him; in fact, I was pretty confident that he didn't.

Shortly after my supposed death, Percy had gotten engaged to a girl named Lily Miller. She was young, pretty, and from a good family. Undoubtedly, their matrimony would solidify his status within the group. Too bad he would never be able to make it down the aisle.

Having kept close watch on him, as I had the rest of the group, I knew he'd made it a habit to visit the less fortunate women of Rochester every week on Tuesday. Today was no exception, and I couldn't wait to wipe the satisfied grin from his face. I followed closely, watching from the shadows as he whistled while he walked home. As he entered a dark ally, separating the good part of town from the bad, I decided to make myself known.

I stepped out of the shadows, into the dim light of the glowing streetlamp. He stopped abruptly when he noticed me, swaying just a little, obviously unsteady from the alcohol he'd consumed. His eyes narrowed as he tried to make sense of me, and I used his temporary confusion to step closer to him. I walked slowly, my hips moving from side to side, and despite his obvious bewilderment, his eyes followed the motion as if my body were hypnotizing him.

"Good evening, Percy," I said, causing him to suddenly look into my eyes.

"I knew that last whiskey was a bad idea," he muttered to himself.

I moved closer, until I was near enough to reach out and touch him if I wanted to. For now, I had no desire to do so. Not while he still thought I was only a figment of his imagination.

"What would your lovely bride think if she knew where I found you?"

I cocked my head to the side just a little and furrowed my brow as if I was really worried about young Lily. Percy staggered back slightly, turning his head left and then right, either looking for an escape route or trying to find the person who was playing this cruel joke on him. When he couldn't find either, he cast his eyes back on me, and his expression quickly shifted from fear to anger.

"Who are you?" he demanded to know.

Taking a step forward and forcing him to take several steps back, I raised my arms as if to display myself.

"Don't tell me you don't remember me, Percy. Or is it only my body you saw that night? What if I wriggled and screamed? Would that help your memory?"

He looked at me in disbelief, his mouth opening and closing a few times as if he was trying to find the right words.

"You're dead," he eventually hissed. "This isn't real; you can't be here."

"Yet, I'm here. Odd, isn't it?" I replied, mocking him.

"What are you? What do you want from me?"

"What am I?" I repeated, pausing, since even I had no answer to that question at the moment.

Percy tried to take advantage of my momentary distraction and suddenly took a sprint to the edge of the alley. I overtook him within a second; he was no match for my vampire-speed.

"Are you trying to piss me off, Percy?"

I blocked his way, moving with him as he attempted to pass me time and time again. I could see his frustration level rise, and I knew it wouldn't be long before his infamous temper would come out. Sure enough, he didn't disappoint.

"Get out of my way, you filthy little bitch," he spat, stepping up until he was hovering over me, trying to intimidate me.

"There's no need for such language, dear Percy," I scolded him, watching as his face turned a curious shade of purple, a sure sign that he was about to lose it. I had him exactly where I wanted him.

"You're not real. There's no such thing as ghosts. My conscience is making me see things."

At this, I couldn't help but chuckle.

"Your conscience? You have no conscience, and you know it. Face it, Percy, I'm real, and I'm here. And I sure as hell am no ghost."

"You're not real!" he shouted, his voice now taking a desperate tone.

I could see a vain swell on his temple, pulsating with every angry beat of his heart. I could smell the blood flowing underneath, unappealing, almost rotten. Like with Kirk, I had no desire to drink from him, not a single drop.

"Let's test how real I am," I proposed. "You like to hit women, am I right? I suppose it makes you feel powerful, more manly. If I had to guess, I would say it probably turns you on."

Percy's anger level was rising rapidly, his body trembling as he tried to hold back. I didn't want him to hold back, however.

"That's it, isn't it? It gets you hard. You can't get it up otherwise."

His hand moved fast, striking me once across the face. I didn't even feel it; it didn't so much as tickle, and my head never moved. Percy, on the other hand, was screaming in agony, cradling his undoubtedly broken fingers.

"Feels real, doesn't it?" I mocked him, using the opportunity to force him back until he was pressed up against the wall.

"What the _fuck_ are you?" he hissed through gritted teeth.

I placed my palms on either side of his face, allowing him no possible escape.

"Your worst nightmare," I replied menacingly.

"What are you going to do to me?" Percy asked, fear creeping into his voice, giving me great satisfaction.

"I'm going to make sure that Miss Miller will never have to suffer at your hand, Percy. Hitting a woman is the worst thing a man can do. It doesn't make you superior; it makes you scum, and scum should be exterminated."

I reached back my hand and swung it, letting my hand hit his face. I used only a tiny amount of pressure-enough to make it hurt but not enough to do any permanent damage. I stepped back and admired the red imprint of my hand on his cheek. A tiny trickle of blood escaped the corner of his mouth.

"Fucking bitch. You're gonna pay for this."

He staggered towards me, his hand already raised. I quickly darted out of his way, leaving him to spin around with the force of his swing. His eyes met mine, and he glared at me, slightly out of breath. Without warning, I struck again, the other cheek this time, and, with great satisfaction, I felt some of his teeth shatter. Percy fell to his knees in front of me, spitting out a mixture of blood and teeth. Some of it hit my dress, infuriating me even further.

"Look at me," I demanded, but he refused, instead, gazing firmly ahead.

I reached for his face and lifted it up by the chin, forcing him to meet my eyes. The left side of his face was bloody and swollen, leaving me oddly satisfied.

"Hmm…I see what you mean now. There's something very gratifying about this."

Percy's breathing sped, and his heartbeat was so loud I had the urge to cover my ears. Instead, I flashed him what should have been a winning smile, but in reality, it was no more than a strange grimace. Then I raised my hand and smacked his head so hard that I felt his skull crack beneath my hands. Blood and what appeared to be pieces of brain splattered everywhere, staining my dress and clinging to my hair. Percy fell back, his body hitting the wall. There, he slid sideways until his face was on the ground, his unseeing eyes staring at my feet.

Again, I left the rose petals, my sign for my former fiancé, before fleeing the scene and heading home where Edward met me at the door.

"Carlisle and Esme have left. They understand that you have a need to do this, but they don't approve. They asked us to join them when your 'work' is completed."

I simply nodded at his words. It would be easier without them around, with no one to judge my actions. As I reached the stairs to go up to my room, a thought occurred to me.

"Why are you still here?"

I turned to look at Edward, who seemed to be considering my question, weighing his answer carefully.

"Because I felt this is where I should be," he eventually answered.

Though his reply confused me slightly, I nodded again and ascended the stairs to wash away the traces of violence and vengeance that clung to me. Another monster removed from the world, bringing me closer to my goal: the biggest monster of them all. I almost smiled at the thought.


End file.
